Most important, least recognized

French philosopher, Simone Weil, is famously quoted as stating, "To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul."  

It is virtually impossible to explain to someone with even the shallowest of roots the feeling of being rootless.  And it is easy for those without much of a root system to feel forlorn & stunted.  But the years continue to show me that there is hope, even for those who feel rootless - as long as they take matters into their own hands.  

Let's say a gardener has a plant that's stunted, fading away.  She tests the ground - is it toxic, too shaded or too sunny, too wet or too dry - and looks around for a more hospitable environment.  Perhaps all it needs is a tweak to the soil, as simple as working in some nitrogen or other nutrients.  Or moving it to another, more welcoming part of the garden.  But if the gardener wants the plant to set down healthy roots, adjustments must be made.

Making adjustments to our emotional soil can be soul wrenching.  How much easier to bend our attention to others who seemingly flourish without apparent effort, blooming where they were planted with a seemingly minimum of fuss & bother.  

Such species are rare.  

Beautiful gardens - particularly ones that look as if their glory happened without a skilled hand & countless hours of tender care - are the result of untold hours of careful planning, knowledge of soil types, and maintenance.  The more effortless they look, the more effort we can assume goes into them.  

It's tempting to look at another person's garden - or life - and think, "If only I had their soil, their seeds, their skill with bringing things to fruition...  Then, my roots would go deep into the soil, then my experiences would produce abundance.  If only..."  Go that route, and your roots will never reach deep into the soil.

Some years back, I enthusiastically got involved in an event connected to our local high school.  Every Wednesday, women gathered at the girls dorm with snacks & banter & some sense of far away friends & family.  It meant a lot to me.  But I never felt like I fit in, because I didn't - much as I cared, I was not a Mom or even an experienced auntie.  

Some years back, I joined a terrific community-oriented, hands-on women's group that seemed tailor-made for my interests.  It meant a lot to me.  But I never felt like I fit in - not sharing enough their other interests, I never felt a shared a sense of place with the rest of the members.

It took something similar happening a couple years back to realize where I was messing up.  A stimulating group - all good acquaintances of mine - gathers virtually every day at our local cafe, bantering back & forth, sharing life moments triumphs challenges.  Wonderful - but not for me.  I love their camaraderie.  What gives them ease makes me tense up.  Hoping to turn that around, but for now - not me.  And that, for the first time, was fully okay with me.  They are still people I care about & for & enjoy, but their place is not mine.    

One very big reason why I never felt like I'd set down significant, even shallow, roots was because I kept putting myself in places where I just didn't flourish.  Each of those opportunities were wonderful, but they weren't really me.  What an eye opener.  


For as far back as memory takes me, I've savor people who seem blessed with a rooted life.  Whether it's spotting a friend-ringed table at  the local cafe or a multi-generation group at a holiday church service or a circle of bosom buddies deep in conversation at the local college, the sight always makes me smile.  

It was only since the early part of this year that it fully dawned that my enjoyment is pure genuine pleasure, without a shred of "Why can't that be me?"  For a couple years, have been consciously working on NOT putting myself into situations which don't resonate with what matters to me.  That meant first figuring out what does matter to me.  It meant figuring out where I flourish, which nutrients work best for me.  No longer a vagabond seed that drops wherever, but a seedling transplanted into welcoming soil & favorable conditions.

Now, I look down & - glory be!  My roots DO go deep!  And I've gained enough perspective to see that I've been working way longer than realized to make it so.  Long before John, I experimented with new locations, different nutrients, less or more water, less or more sun.  

Yes, it took adding a vital nutrient - John, another relatively rootless soul - to find what seems like my ideal spot, but my roots reached down long before.  My error was in mistaking lack of a wild riot of bloom for evidence that I  lacked even shallow roots.

My roots go deep.  In some ways, they always have.  And FINALLY recognizing that helps me accept that the primary need of my soul has been met.  For that, I thank my Gardener, whose loving Hand & tender Care nurtures my soil.